


Pillow Fights

by Vulpesmellifera



Series: Crayon Box Melts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mycroft's been away, Shared Crushes, Silly, Surprises, they miss each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpesmellifera/pseuds/Vulpesmellifera
Summary: Mycroft returns home early from a business trip to surprise Greg. Greg isn't the only one who gets surprised.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Crayon Box Melts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578679
Comments: 24
Kudos: 175
Collections: Mystrade Holiday 2019, Sherlock Fandom VS 2020





	Pillow Fights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magenta_Black](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magenta_Black/gifts).



> Not betad or britpicked. Just a little fun exercise while traveling on the plane with a toddler in my lap. XD

“Greg,” he says as he clicks his tongue and shuts the front door behind him. He surveys the foyer. A garland of greenery and twinkling lights twine around the bannister. Greg’s shoes are tossed across the way. His coat is hung on the hook, but his briefcase lays askew on the floor. Mycroft’s heart warms at the thought of Greg here in his home. It’s been a week since they’ve seen each other. The idea of Greg letting himself in and clearly making himself at home makes Mycroft’s insides tingle with a strange sensation he's felt increasingly over the past few months.

It might even be worth inviting him to move in.

Mycroft undoes his scarf and coat and hangs them neatly next to Greg’s. He removes his expensive leather shoes and slides his feet into comfortable loafers. The house is still. It's only six in the morning. And Mycroft is home a day early from his diplomatic trip.

Over the week there’d been texts of gentle teasing, phone calls full of griping over work duties softened by whispered promises and _I miss you_ and _I love you_. At Greg's urging, they’d watched _Die Hard_ over Skype together, as it was Greg's favorite holiday film.

“If I had the power to bring back any dead celebrity, it would be him,” Greg had declared, quite obviously referring to Alan Rickman.

Mycroft’s stomach tumbled with a pleasant mix of glee and nervous anticipation. “He was a monument to his craft.”

“And bloody good looking.”

Mycroft flushed. “I quite agree.” The only other person aware of Mycroft’s silly and longtime preoccupation with the actor was Anthea, who treated him to truly awful gag gifts when she was feeling mischievous. The idea of sharing this titillation with the love of his life was thrilling. Perhaps Greg truly is made for him, and he for Greg.

He tiptoes up the steps. When he reaches the top, he sees that the door to his bedroom is ajar.

He steps through the door and turns on the small lamp by the doorway. The light washes the room in a soft, warm brilliance.

Greg is on his side in the king sized bed, his broad and bare back to the door. He’s huddled toward the center of the bed. The gold bedspread pools about his waist. He’s gorgeous in the mellow glow. 

_And all mine,_ Mycroft thinks. He toes off his loafers, and removes his jacket, cuff links and tie. He plans to slip into bed beside that beautiful man, and wake him gently for a round of hot and frantic reunion sex.

He hasn’t even showered, but he can’t live another moment without Greg Lestrade in his arms.

He approaches the bedside when he sees it - Greg is wrapped around someone. His arms and what must be one leg under the blanket is wound around the other person.

Mycroft’s heart plummets and his skin crawls as his mind tries to reconcile what he’s seeing. _How could- how could he- what-_

_In my own bed. Our bed._

Then Greg moves. Rolls onto his back, and Mycroft jolts. He’s vaguely aware of Greg’s eyes opening as he stares at the form beside him.

“Hey, Mycroft?” A sleepy smile crosses his face. “You’re home.”

“Where-,“ Mycroft lifts a hand to the bed. “You-,“

Greg glances over his shoulder, and then he giggles. The man _giggles_. “I went looking for an extra pillow and that’s what I found. He’s pretty perfect. I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me like this.” Greg waggles his eyebrows.

Mycroft splutters. “It was an ill advised gift-,“

Greg held up his hands. “No need to explain it to me. We already established that we can agree the man’s dreamy.”

Mycroft inhales, scrambling to deliver his protestations.

“Besides,” Greg says with a smile like the cat who caught the canary, “it smells like you. So I know it’s not lived its entire life in the back of your closet.”

Mycroft deflates. Then smiles. “You rogue. You knew when you asked to watch the film.”

“I’m not the one carrying on an affair with a body pillow. Least you could have done is shared.”

Mycroft throws himself into the bed and half on top of his lover. Greg sniggers as Mycroft struggles to pull the body pillow from the bed; Greg clings to it as if it were his salvation. “Oh no way! I’m not giving this up now that I’ve got it! Who else I’m going to cuddle up to when you’re out of the country!”

“Get your own!” Mycroft snorts and gasps with laughter. “There’s not enough of him to go around!”

Greg tickles his sides and Mycroft squeals, twisting away from his lover, and soon the two of them are rolling in the sheets, yelping and screeching with wild abandon, all next to the beatific face of smiling Alan Rickman on a body pillow.


End file.
